I'm tired of living— What should I do? Pretend life is worth living And that I'm not through? I'm finished, I'm beaten— What's the use of trying? I'm older, I'm weaker— Why keep on lying? Life is a welter of pleasure and pain, And we fight and we struggle and go down again, And we grapple and scratch with a fierce little will, But we're licked and we're beaten and can't find a thrill. So we lie down and die, With a weary little sigh, And we say, "What's the use? It's all been abuse." Dirge after dirge we sing, And our voices rise up in a mournful ring, Till the earth seems to tremble with our despair, And the stars fade away and leave us there. But still we keep on singing, As though the dirge had some strange, sweet ringing, As though the pain and the sorrow and the strife Were a part of the beauty and the zest of life. So we sing and we sing, Till the bells begin to ring, And the people gather round us in a throng, And we die with a shout and a song | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIVE SOULS by WILLIAM NORMAN EWER PSALM 74 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PIRATE TREASURE by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THESE ALSO ARE LIVING by CARLOS BULOSAN A LAKE SUNRISE by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE PRECEDENT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR |